A Mistletoe Check
by I am Lu
Summary: The two times Dawn and Paul avoided an encounter under the mistletoe, and the one time they didn't. For c-chepi in the Ikarishipping Secret Santa event. Happy holidays!


**THE FIRST**

It was snowing—only a light flurry, but it seemed Johtoans saw this as the equivalent of a once-in-a-century blizzard. At least, that was Dawn's perception based upon how the anchor for the local news channel was talking. Maybe it was just being glamorized for views. She didn't know. What she _did_ know was that no one ever talked about a light snowfall like this back home in Sinnoh; it was sort of amusing, really.

But to be fair, May had once laughed at Dawn for complaining about humidity. It _was_ humid—Dawn would stand by that; her hair was frizzy and sweaty and everything, darn it—but she had to admit that it was a bad call to bring it up with someone from a tropical region.

Dawn was nursing a cup of hot chocolate while she kept an eye on the television set mounted on the wall within the Ecruteak Pokémon Center. She had arrived yesterday in anticipation of an upcoming contest, the last in Johto before the holidays. The contest was still several days away though, so she and her Pokémon had time for some relaxation between training sessions. The sun had fallen, though, so it was time to wind down for the day.

Piplup lightly pecked at her hand. When she looked at him, he pointed at her mug.

"Oh—you want the marshmallows, right?" she asked. Piplup nodded, and she pushed the mug toward him. "Here, you can finish the rest."

Piplup chirped happily at her and grasped the mug with his flippers. He plucked out the half-melted treats one by one until they were all gone, then proceeded to drain the last bit of the warm drink.

Dawn smiled at him distractedly then looked back toward the screen. The anchor had moved on from the weather segment and was now giving an update on the upcoming Silver Conference. She didn't know anyone who was competing—last she heard, Ash was in Alola, and she wasn't friends with many league trainers—but she still watched with mild interest.

The doors at the entrance of the Pokémon Center opened, and Dawn's gaze was naturally drawn to the noise—and she nearly did a double-take. It was actually someone she recognized.

Paul. Paul Rebolledo.

It had been two, no, maybe three years since she last saw him, much less thought of him. He looked a little older now—a bit taller, his hair an inch or two longer—but it was unmistakably him. She could recognize the scowl of Ash's old rival anywhere. He went straight toward the front desk to meet with Nurse Joy. Was he checking in? Dawn realized after a moment that she was staring and forced herself to look away.

Should she say hi? Would that be weird? Or would it be weirder to pretend she didn't remember him? Granted, for all she knew, he might not remember her. He'd forgotten who she was mere weeks between their first encounter and their second (the jerk). There'd been several _years_ between their last meeting, though, so it seemed more reasonable for him to forget. Although, she certainly hadn't.

Piplup started pecking at her hand again, a little harder this time.

" _Ow_ ," Dawn scolded him, drawing her hand away. " _What_?"

Piplup pointed at Paul, garbling something annoyed and incomprehensible. Dawn glanced at Paul again then looked back to her Pokémon.

"Yeah, I see him too," Dawn said. "Should I say hi?"

Piplup scrunched up his face, thinking for a moment, then furiously shook his head. Dawn frowned. She knew what that meant.

"Okay," she sighed. "If you say no, then I probably should."

Piplup gaped at her and squawked in offense, but Dawn ignored him as she got up and made her way toward Paul.

About halfway there, it occurred to her that she had no idea what to say. Hi, remember me? I was your old rival's friend! You didn't like us very much, but I thought I'd say Merry Christmas anyway because I like to spite my Piplup's rude antisocial tendencies! Sounds familiar, huh?

She was seriously reconsidering now and had stopped walking entirely. He'd probably be out in the morning, right? He seemed like the type of person to not stay in one place for too long while she was tied down here for a few days because of the contest. So she could reasonably avoid him and—

Too late. He finished talking to Nurse Joy and turned away, spotting her in the process. Dawn tensed up, realizing how stupid she must have looked then, standing in the middle of the floor and staring. He recognized her, too—Dawn could tell by the look in his eyes—still, he said nothing, instead craning his eyebrows, raising his gaze above her head, then abruptly walking away.

Dawn blinked and looked above her head. She immediately went red. She was, unbeknownst to her, standing under a mistletoe.

 **THE SECOND**

The embarrassing encounter was on her mind all night. He must've thought—ugh, and she hadn't said anything, just stood there blushing like an idiot. If only she'd just said hi and moved on, then he wouldn't think—

Yeah, she didn't get a lot of sleep. So her day wasn't off to a great start, and it only got worse when she walked into the lobby, and there was Paul, sitting down, gnashing on some breakfast edibles and orange juice.

Dawn almost turned around and headed back up the stairs. She was too tired to deal with this. But she stopped herself and girded her nerve. No. She couldn't run away from this. She had to face it head on. Otherwise, she would just continue to obsess over it all day, or at least until he left, and she had training to do.

Dawn turned back around, grasping Piplup tighter in her arms until he squeaked, and marched straight toward him. His gaze flicked toward her in acknowledgement, but he said nothing even as she sat on the sofa directly across from him.

"Hi," she said firmly, as if she'd been dared to do it.

Paul raised his eyebrows.

"Hi … ?" He sounded unimpressed and confused at the same time, but Dawn was honestly surprised he said anything at all. She expected a grunt or humph—the standard Paul fare, at least from several years ago.

"It's been a while since we last saw each other," Dawn went on.

Paul grunted in response. Ah, there it was.

"So, uh, what brings you to Johto?" Dawn asked.

"The Silver Conference," Paul answered.

Right. Of course. Dumb question. Still, Dawn watched him in anticipation, holding onto Piplup a little tighter again. Still, Paul said nothing. His gaze disengaged from hers, and he carried on with breakfast as if she wasn't there at all.

Dawn cleared her throat. "Well?" she prodded him.

"Well what?" Paul asked.

"Aren't you going to ask what I'm doing in Johto?"

Paul looked at her blankly. "Why would I do that?" he asked. "I already know. You're a coordinator, and there's a contest in Ecruteak in a few days."

Dawn was surprised he knew that—knew that she was a coordinator—but she still flushed red with frustration.

"You should still ask!" she said.

"Why?"

"Because—" Dawn sputtered. "Because maybe you're wrong! Maybe I'm not a coordinator anymore. Maybe I changed careers!"

Paul looked her up and down. "Did you?" he asked.

Dawn deflated. "No," she admitted.

"Hm." Paul finished the last bit of his meal and stood up. "Well. Thanks for the productive conversation."

He was being sarcastic, and Dawn might have laughed—it was _almost_ funny—but she was too mad to give him any sort of satisfaction. She didn't know a person who didn't feel good when they made someone laugh, but then again, this was Paul she dealing with.

Dawn leapt to her feet when he started to walk away.

"You—" Dawn started, mentally stumbling to say _something_. "I wasn't waiting for you under the mistletoe yesterday!"

Paul stopped in his tracks and turned slowly to face her. Dawn almost followed to get up in his face and give him more of a piece of her mind—but she realized that now _he_ was standing beneath the mistletoe.

"Okay?" he said.

Paul then turned again and headed out the door.

 **THE THIRD**

Dawn went back up to her room and screamed into her pillow for a good twenty minutes. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. How was it possible for her to make an embarrassing situation so much worse? Oh, right. Because she was dealing with the most socially frustrating person she'd ever met, and he could make _any_ situation go from fine to awkward. What did she expect?

Eventually, she regrouped. What to do next? If she left things hanging the way they were, she didn't think he'd blame her—she didn't think _anyone_ would. But she wasn't sure herself if she wanted things to end this way. It had been years since they had last seen each other. How many years until they inevitably ran into one another again? The world of competitive training was smaller than one might think. Trainers were bound to cross paths multiple times in their careers, and she'd rather resolve this now than another five weeks or five months or five years—or however long!—down the road. She hated unfinished business.

Leaving Piplup and her other Pokémon in her room, Dawn dragged herself downstairs and out the front entrance. It had stopped snowing, but the ground was covered in a fluffy blanket of snow—with conveniently Paul-sized footsteps leading straight toward the practice fields.

She found him working with both his Torterra and his Weavile.

"Blizzard, Weavile!" Dawn heard Paul order as she approached. A sudden icy storm flurried around the field with increasing speed, and Dawn yelped in surprise when she felt some stray flakes sting her cheeks and nose from the sidelines.

"Now, Torterra, Frenzy Plant!"

Through the thick of the storm, Dawn saw the glow of Torterra's vines crash through the ground up. The storm almost immediately subsided, for Torterra had Weavile entangled in his attack.

"Good," Paul commended. "If you can keep your eyes sharp in a storm like that, we'll have no problem defeating Pryce. Let Weavile down now, Torterra."

As Torterra followed his trainer's instructions, Weavile caught sight of Dawn from above. Once safely on the ground, Weavile pointed at Dawn and looked to his trainer, calling out to get his attention.

Paul glanced Dawn's way and sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets and turning his head.

"What now?" he groaned.

Dawn bristled at his tone but didn't let it get the best of her.

"I wanted to start over," she said.

He flicked his head back toward her, and he stared through her. Dawn sensed she needed to gear up for a one-sided fight—an argument about why this was stupid, that he was busy, and ending it by simply walking away despite her protests—but instead, he sighed again and returned both Weavile and Torterra to their Poké Balls.

"Fine," he acquiesced. He started to walk past her, back into the Pokémon Center. Dawn figured that meant she was on a timer.

"So, why are you training for Pryce?" she asked. "Isn't Morty the gym leader for Ecruteak? I thought Pryce was in charge of the Mahogany Town Gym."

"Really?" There was a genuine-sounding uptick in his inflection, so Dawn carried on.

"Yeah!" She wasn't sure, but she was _pretty_ sure. "He—" Dawn stopped, finally reading Paul's normally indecipherable expression. "You're just messing with me, aren't you?"

He shrugged but offered something resembling a smirk. Oh, great. He was still a jerk, but now he was a jerk with a weak and warped sense of humor. At least he had one, she supposed.

"So why train for Pryce anyway if you know he's several towns over?" Dawn pressed.

"I already have Morty's badge," Paul said.

"Oh yeah? Congratulations."

"Hm. Thanks." A pause. "How many ribbons do you have? It's five to get into the Grand Festival, isn't it?"

Dawn was almost impressed. " _Wow_ , you're learning," she said a little teasingly. Paul knitted his eyebrows together and looked at her inquisitively. Dawn elaborated, "You're actually asking follow-up questions."

"I _don't_ know how many ribbons you have," Paul pointed out. But of course, he knew she was a coordinator. Somehow.

"Three," Dawn finally answered. "Number four will be later this week."

"Hn."

A return "congrats" or "good job" or even "wow, you're close" would have been nice, but—baby steps, Dawn supposed. The entrance doors to the Pokémon Center slid open, and they stepped inside.

"So are you satisfied now?" Paul asked, stopping and turning to face her.

"Huh?" Dawn blinked. "Oh, yeah," she continued, realizing he was referring to her desire to start over. They had sufficiently moved past that whole awkward mistletoe business, probably.

"Was there any other reason you wanted to talk to me?" Paul asked, folding his arms.

"Just to wish you a Merry Christmas," Dawn said; she sounded just as glad as him to be wrapping this up.

"Great. Merry Christmas to you, too," he grunted. They were prepared to part, to finally put this all behind; Paul had even made a motion to turn on his heel and leave while Dawn just barely started to slide back when Nurse Joy's voice trilled out, stopping them both.

"Look who's under the mistletoe!" she practically sang, like she'd been excitedly waiting for days for two unknowing, unfortunate trainers to get caught under the cursed decor.

Dawn and Paul's heads snapped toward the foliage hanging tauntingly above them then toward each other. Dawn felt heat crawling up her neck and flushing her cheeks. Oh no. _Oh no_. _Nononononononono_. They had just fixed this! And now—

"You two owe each other a kiss!" Nurse Joy continued in a thrilled breath, leaning over the counter.

Dawn could swear she saw some color darkening Paul's checks then, but he turned away so quickly that she could have imagined it. Coughing, he said, "I'll have to take a rain check on that." He then turned away fully, robotically, on his heel and briskly headed back out the doors.

Nurse Joy was cooing again, and Dawn buried her face in her hands before hurrying up the stairs herself.

She screamed into her pillow for another good chunk of time. When she had stopped, Piplup poked at her shoulder to check if she was still alive. Dawn lifted her chin and sighed.

A rain check, huh? Didn't he even know what that meant?

Dawn dropped her head again. She supposed she, too, would take a rain check on talking to him again, saving it for the next time they ran into each other, whenever that was—or at least, whenever that mistletoe was gone.


End file.
